The suicide of former Chetham’s School of Music pupil Frances Andrade has led
to allegations of sexual exploitation – and a lack of action – at other
elite music schools

Svengali is an overused literary reference, but in the case of Chetham’s School of Music the great fictional manipulator has his place. The institution, a proud cultural landmark in Manchester, an incubator of young musical talent for almost half a century, has in its time boasted not one but a number of small-time Svengalis, talented men who have used their power as teachers to control and sexually exploit female pupils in their care.

Only now, after the suicide of a former pupil during the trial of her one-time tormentor, are the stories about Chetham’s becoming known. And not just Chetham’s. Other elite music schools in Britain are under pressure to explain their pasts, and the way in which crimes were quietly brushed under the carpet.

“There is a culture of cover-up and denial at the English music schools, which are often concerned more for their reputation than for the children in their care,” says the author and critic Norman Lebrecht. “Ten years ago, when Nigel Kennedy spoke of abuse of girls in his class at the Yehudi Menuhin School, no investigation followed. More recently, when the headmaster of the Purcell School left under cover of darkness, the school said nothing. The schools, when challenged, close ranks, shut their eyes and hide behind lawyers. Until they change their culture, there will always be a risk of abuse.”

Frances Andrade, a highly regarded violinist and past pupil at Chetham’s, took her own life last month after being subjected to harsh cross-examination during the trial of Michael Brewer, a former director of music at the school and an internationally recognised choirmaster. Mrs Andrade, 48 years old and a mother of four, had dreaded giving evidence against Brewer, whom she accused of raping her at the age of 18 and indecently assaulting her between the ages of 14 and 15. Brewer, 68, was cleared of rape but convicted on five counts of indecent assault. His former wife Kay, 68, was found guilty of indecently assaulting Mrs Andrade at the time of the alleged rape.

“Fran felt as if she was on trial,” said her husband Levine, who discovered his wife dead in bed. “She kept saying, 'I can see why nobody comes forward. I can see how people crack under the pressure.’ ”

A can of worms has been opened and the secrets inside are crawling out. Greater Manchester Police are believed to be investigating at least six current or former teachers at Chetham’s and its sister institution in Manchester, the Royal Northern College of Music (RNCM), which provides tuition to degree level. Former female pupils have come forward to accuse male teachers of serious sexual offences, allegedly committed between the Seventies and Nineties. They include the late Ryszard Bakst, a Polish piano teacher whose name graces the annual award for the most gifted pupil at the RNCM, and Christopher Ling, a violin teacher now working in Los Angeles as an agent for conductors and musicians. Ling is accused of grooming female pupils under cover of holiday tuition at his home in Reading, as well as in Manchester.

Chetham’s, known to pupils as Chet’s, was a boys’ grammar before being reborn as a music boarding school in 1969. Fees were high but grants allowed children from all backgrounds to attend, the only criterion for entry being outstanding musical ability. Discipline was initially severe but gradually gave way to a freer atmosphere, though no less demanding musically.

“The children were often precociously mature, gifted and resourceful,” says one former pupil who wished to remain anonymous. “Full sets of 'misplaced’ school keys passed from one upper sixth to the next. In the evening, older pupils would frequent pubs in central Manchester. Pastoral care in the modern sense was unknown. In the Seventies, the school resembled a cross between St Trinian’s and Lord of the Flies.”

Nicholas Ashton, a music lecturer at Edinburgh Napier University, was a day boy at Chetham’s between 1973 and 1980.

“It was such an unusual experience being there that you felt left out of family life,” he says. “You missed out on a normal childhood. Everybody knew things were going on – there were lots of rumours.”

Boys were targeted by some members of staff, but it was predominantly girls.

“I remember being told by a boarder, 'You don’t know anything about what goes on here; you don’t see seven eighths of what is happening in this school.’ Girls were taken out to local pubs,” recalls Ashton.

Sophie Barber was a student at Chetham’s and the RNCM, and is now a noted professional violinist. Thirty years later, she claims the violin tutor Malcolm Layfield manipulated her into becoming his lover when she was 18.

“Because there was such competition, teachers were so powerful,” she remembers. “They could make or break your day, sending some girls into seventh heaven or into the depths of despair. Teachers took pupils home, or gave extra lessons after hours. That was a brilliant thing – even if they started getting you to do things you were uncomfortable with. You were in such awe of them, you didn’t even think about refusing.

“Teachers like Malcolm made sure they became our entire lives. He was omnipotent. I was immature and naive, and I became so reliant on him that in the end it became a sexual thing.”

Miss Barber, 48, says other former pupils have considered suicide because, like Mrs Andrade, they could not cope with the legacy of Chetham’s. “There needs to be a full investigation into what was going on at the school at the time,” she says. “There were plenty of girls being targeted. I’m still in touch with one, and she’s finding it very hard, even now.”

Following the Brewer verdict, Layfield resigned from the board of directors of the RNCM. He remained in post for years, despite concerns about him. There was a similar lack of action at Chetham’s.

John Vallins retired as headmaster of Chetham’s in 1992 after 18 years in post. A former pupil of Ling told the Guardian that she approached Mr Vallins to raise the alert about Ling’s behaviour but nothing was done. Mr Vallins, who now writes that newspaper’s Country Diary, says he has no recollection of such a warning.

“I am appalled at the information now emerging,” he says. “If these very serious allegations had been reported to me at the time I would have investigated thoroughly. During my 18 years as headmaster, very occasionally allegations were made of inappropriate behaviour, and I took appropriate action on each occasion. I trust there will now be a full and proper investigation of these new allegations, and I will give all the assistance I can.”

Lebrecht has pursued the issue of abuse at music schools in his blog, Slipped Disc.

“Teaching music is a physical, invasive activity,” he says. “There is always a risk that boundaries may be crossed. That is why music schools and colleges need to take extra care to prevent abuse, to act swiftly when grooming or molestation takes place. Sadly, they don’t.”

He wants an inquiry into abuse at the country’s music academies, as does Ian Pace, a pianist and musicologist who studied at Chetham’s from 1978 to 1986. Mr Pace is at pains to stress that there were many fine teachers at the school during the years in question, that the school was generally no different from other boarding institutions, and that it offered often superlative teaching. But he also points to something deep in the psyche of the place.

“A tradition of thought descending from the late 19th century holds that what is most important is beauty, over and above other moral considerations,” he maintains. “This remains something of a credo for various types of artist, but needs unpacking. Where does it leave human vulnerability and frailty? In fact, where does it leave the human element at all?

“It is very easy for an artistic sensibility to entail a fair degree of dehumanisation – an extremely hierarchical view of human beings. This should be resisted at every opportunity. Human beings are more important than art. With hindsight, though, I can see how such a sensibility informed some of the culture at Chet’s.”

Mr Pace and fellow former pupils of Chetham’s have launched a petition calling for an inquiry into the alleged abuse.

“There are many other such allegations from the Seventies and Eighties, too many to ignore, powerful individuals at various music schools and colleges. Many victims have been afraid to complain either to the institutions or the police for fear of recriminations in a close-knit musical world in which a relatively small number of individuals can make or break careers.

“To produce a high-quality performance requires a lot from the performer. In school, this creates pressure to become prematurely 'grown-up’, without going through the normal processes. With hindsight, one can see how this may have been achieved in a most heinous manner. It is a tragedy for those who suffered.”